


Resonance

by winterwhite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:53:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwhite/pseuds/winterwhite
Summary: McCree and Reyes week shorts and drabbles - some gen, some not. Some will require serious tags. Some will not.





	1. Isle - Domestic

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Domestic.
> 
> Gen. No warnings.

The bright sunlight slants down merrily. But the wind is ominous in the undergrowth, sweeping low and angry over the sea and onto the small island. Reyes digs deeper in the dry earth. McCree, cutting poles to size nearby, is shirtless. Somehow, despite the crash, despite their swim to shore from the rocks, he kept his hat. Gabriel shakes his head. "Any of them done?"

"This one's good enough."

"Bring it over." They've been careful to cut branches and prepare throughout the day. They have buried coals in case they need a backup fire. Their hoard is glowing in the earth, covered with layers of leaves and dirt to protect them in the rain. A tiny crab scuttles past Gabriel's growing pile of sand. He watches it thoughtfully. Might want to catch a handful and throw them in the pot. No use passing up free protein. Tomorrow: they have enough for now.

Jesse's feet plod near, and the end of the pole _thunks_ down. Gabriel packs it in with rocks and dirt and goes to work on the next hole. They were able to find a sunken depression in the cliff, the nearest thing the island has to a cave. He hears Jesse check the pot on the way back to his work space.

"How's it coming?"

"Smells worth it, so far," Jesse tosses back. "Bread idea doesn't seem too bad, either."

Gabriel stretches. "I kicked the boxes off the back of the plane. Everything must have sunk close together. We'll find the emergency beacon, if we're left here that long."

"Wasn't worryin'." Jesse picks up pole and knife. "Too bad about the tide takin' the plane off the rocks. Could have used another going-over for anything handy."

"Asshole could have dropped a tracker we don't know about. I'm more worried it'll wash back up." Gabriel doubts it. From the little noise Jesse makes, he doubts it, too. They work in silence, putting the structure of the hut together as the sky darkens. A few drops patter down as they test it for stability. They start putting leaves on the roof as the wind picks up.

"Needs a door," Jesse finally says. Gabriel nods, digging through the scraps box - for some reason, the plane had cold-weather supplies. He gets out a sleeping bag meant for polar conditions and rips the top lining off. He rolls a strip of it around a stick, pinning it, and takes another stick to weight the bottom edge. Jesse watches, then makes fastenings to hang it in their tiny doorway.

The inside of the hut is lit by a little pair of emergency lights. The walls and ceiling are lined with bug netting, since one box had enough for them to make hammocks in a pinch. Past that bright haze of white is the dark greens of the leaves. The scooped rock at the back is marbled with grays and whites. Gabriel rips out the layers of padding of the sleeping bag, rolls them up out of the way, and spreads the inner shell of the sleeping bag over the floor.

"What're you doing with those?" Jesse motions.

"Not sure if we're waterproof," Gabriel says. "We can put it under any leaks and deal with them in the morning." They should stay dry in the overhang, unless the whole thing blows down, but it's always good to have a plan. His stomach growls. "Ready to eat?"

He spent a happy fifteen minutes relentlessly mocking McCree for managing to save the small box with cooking supplies - a couple of pots, firestarting gear, a few basics - and missing the box with the food. Then Jesse noticed that Reyes saved the cold-weather gear, and happily gave it back. The food isn't anymore a threat than freezing: Reyes turned up a couple of biscuit mixes dropped into the survival gear. They have the thin packets of emergency rations from their packs, when they want them.

Dinner is green coconuts, biscuits, and fresh-caught seafood stew: a couple of fish, a couple of crabs, a small octopus, spices. Reyes fully intends to pack the emergency rations right back out. He brings in the pots while Jesse holds the door up. Jesse pulls the lining up in a corner, and they nestle the pots in the sand to keep warm while they eat. He hacks a coconut open and passes it to Jesse, with the curved top of the shell for a spoon. Jesse drinks gratefully, settling back against one of the rolls of lining. Reyes decides it's not a terrible idea and sits against the other. He opens the second coconut with a practiced few hits. The milk is rich and sweet, perfect after that much time in the sun.

"Sunburned yet?" he asks.

"Little bit."

"Got something in my pack, if you lost yours."

Jesse shrugs. "It ain't bad."

Reyes drops it. Jesse smiles at him crookedly and starts scraping coconut meat out with his piece of shell. Reyes rolls his head from one side to the other. "So," Jesse says. "The screening program?"

"He came up clean, Jesse."

"Talon?"

"Probably Talon." Reyes shrugs. It's not every day you find the pilot reprogramming the autopilot to crash, parachute already on his back. Jesse had gotten his transmitter before it started with his signal. Reyes had dealt with him. The controls had already been destroyed. "If we can't dive for the beacon, Blackwatch'll find us in a couple of days," he reminds Jesse. "Or Jack will. In that case, everyone's demoted, and I'm bringing in new blood."

"Everyone?"

"You found the coconuts. You're not demoted."

Jesse laughs, scraping the last of the coconut meat out of the shell. Reyes stretches, leaning back. They talk about nothing in particular: prototypes, the weirdest tool they've salvaged, a turn of phrase Reyes overheard while they were on the mission. They lean back as they hear the rain tapering off, examining the roof together. There are a few shining trails on the undersides of the leaves, telling of small leaks, but those are near the door. Nothing that they need to fix before the morning.

"All right," Reyes says, when he notices Jesse's scraping of the inside of the shell has stopped, "hand it over." Jesse hands over the scraped coconut shell. He takes the lid off the pot. Steam and aromas rise. He stirs it, scoops the shell full of stew, and passes it back to Jesse.

Jesse is ingrateful enough for skepticism. "There enough for you?"

"Yes." Reyes opens the other pot. The biscuits aren't as crisp on the top as he'd like, but the undersides have crusted thick and brown. He plucks one out, dips it in the stew pot, and eats it. Jesse grabs one of the leaves they checked against the manual (some leaves are toxic, standard practice,) and holds it out hopefully. Reyes snorts loudly, but gives him two. He pours the remainder of the stew pot into his shell. It's thick. By nature of their crappy utensils, Jesse got more broth and less meat than he did, so Reyes gave him more to try to balance it. He settles back, frowning into the shell critically. The fish flakes at a touch of the makeshift spoon, the crab meat drifts softly, and the broth shimmers richly in the emergency light. He tries a taste. "I'm promoting me."

McCree frowns as he wrangles a tentacle (Reyes makes a mental note to chop octopus more finely next time.) "I caught-"

"Yeah? And I cooked it." He waves the spoon/shell. "You're up for tomorrow, _vaquero._ "

"If you can catch enough."

"Won't be as funny as you catching the rock crab."

"I caught it, didn't I? You want less crab, or more dignity?"

Reyes dips a biscuit in the broth. "I can try another impression after dinner. Don't think I'll ever get the elbows right." He snorts at the memory. Jesse, who has had the gift of several impressions of him trying to corner a sizeable, angry rock crab in his hat, rolls his eyes. Reyes reminds himself to eat slowly. Just enjoy. It's been a long day. "You're doing the dishes."

"Course."

"Don't just throw them in the trees, either -"

"Got more coconuts. We haven't explored all the island, either."

Reyes snorts. But he's made his point. He chases a tentacle through the stew with his makeshift spoon. Definitely going to cut them smaller next time. He goes back to casual conversation. They both clean up afterwards, washing the pots and shells in the sea, scrubbing them with sand, watching the sunset. Gabriel checks how the water desalinization sheets are doing and collects water in one of the shells. After all, he's not sure how many green coconuts are left.

They sit back and watch the stars, going through the remaining boxes that they salvaged from the ship. One of them leaked. Naturally, it was the one containing the bedrolls. Jesse has already gathered leaves for a bed, so they just trade a glance (it's always the one with the bedding that leaks) and spread everything out for the morning sun to dry. Jesse's yawning by the time they're done. Reyes sits him down, rubs first aid gel over his sunburn, and goes inside. Jesse follows.

There's a companionable near-silence, besides the riot of small insects. Reyes shuts off the emergency lights, since it's dark enough for bugs to start testing the door, and he doesn't want any large, bumbling beetles letting the flies in. By the silence, he can tell Jesse's dozing off.

In the morning, they fish. Gabriel knows Jesse has spotted the last crate, containing the emergency beacon, off the ridge of rocks where the plane went down. Jesse is wise enough not to say anything.

Gabriel knows where it is, when they want it. _If_ they want it. If Blackwatch doesn't find them tomorrow, he's going to be pissed.


	2. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Drugging of someone else, with the intent of questioning, without consent. 
> 
> Some kissing, no non-con elements.

The air travels in curls of gray when he leans back and blows into it. He snorts. There are people around, but they're not important. He's sitting on a cushion in one of many screened recesses. There's something in the cigarettes the green-haired boy keeps passing to him, he knows, something that makes him euphoric and giddy. It beats the nicotine rush he's used to. He hopes he's not too high. He passes the latest one back.

"Thanks." A long, long drag, and Genji Shimada tips his head back and drifts up a perfect ring, matching Jesse's first try. It drifts upward and joins the general cloud.

"Ain't no smoke alarms," Jesse says. "We could all die if you drop that on the tatami."  Genji just laughs at him. His green hair seems to glow through the gray in the air. Jesse snorts, and gives him a lazy smile back.

The job is simple. Was simple. Get close, plant tracker, get out. He got in, the tracker's on the target, and he was on his way out. Only... only that was before Genji Shimada tugged on his sleeve and demanded to know what he was doing in here, loud enough to cause a scene if he kept walking. Genji Shimada gave him a drink and shared a cigarette, they played a couple of rounds of truth or dare (Jesse picked dare, and there's a broken table to show for it.) He knows he should get up but it's too hard, he's staying right here.  Genji passes the cigarette back. He takes a long, slow drag.

"Truth or - wait, you should do truth this time. Ready to tell me who you are?" asks Genji. He leans forward, dragging his fingertips along Jesse's jaw, leaving little sparks and tingles behind. Jesse shudders.

"No, I pick dare," Jesse says, automatically. "An' I'm just passin'-"

"I saw," Genji says, tone low. "Relax. Nobody's around anymore but people friendly to my family, and they all know better than to listen." He scoots closer. "So hey, we're all friends here, right? So why don't you tell me who sent you to tag our _other_ friend with a little silver gift?"

"What's in the cigarette?"

"Nothing, really," Genji says. "It was in the drink. And you're not poisoned badly," he adds. "It's just a little... what's the word..." he snaps his fingers. "Help me out, here."

"Inveiglin'?"

"Oh, wow, that was a bigger word than I thought you'd have." Genji digs out his datapad and taps. "Hang on! I've got to look that up." There's a haze around the datapad. Jesse holds out a hand and waves it. It's more smoke. Genji smacks his hand down, not hard. Pins it on the pillow, rubbing a little circle on the back of his hand with his thumb. It feels nice. Jesse pulls in a slow, shaky breath. Genji glances up to watch his lips.  Then he goes back to his datapad. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Friend has a pretty big vocabulary."

"You've been playing dumb! That's so mean." Genji is nearly _pouting._ McCree knows how badly Genji could hurt him with a couple darts of his hands. It's terrifying. "I like interesting people, and you were going to be boring until I went away, weren't you?" He shifts. His hand spreads over Jesse's, warm, sending a pleasant buzz up his arm as he leans in. "So, tell me about your friend."

"What fri-"

Genji takes the cigarette and tucks it between his lips. He reaches over to Jesse's chin, and turns his head. It sends shivers and sparkles through his skull, and he hears himself chuckling. They've been here for a while, because Reyes has given up and come in, walked around the upper level. He's already taken in the problem with a glance. He's close enough to see Jesse's face.

"Don't know him," says Jesse automatically.

"Ah! That's too bad," Genji purrs, "look at him." That's exactly what Jesse has been telling himself not to do for the past year. His gaze drops. He can feel Genji watch it happen. "Come in," Genji says to Reyes. "Sit down." He leans close to Jesse, smooth-shaved cheek nearly against his, and drapes an arm over his shoulder. "We were just talking about you." Jesse shuts his mouth, lips together. Genji makes a noise that's pretty damn close to a giggle and shifts the cigarette in his mouth, cherry dangerously close to Jesse's skin. The warmth is nice for a moment, and then it isn't, and Jesse tries to lean away. Genji's arm tightens.

"Let him go," Reyes says, soft and calm.

The tone is right. Genji's arm relaxes, and he brings a hand up to remove the cigarette, pluming smoke in the air with a long, slow breath. "Okay! Fine! But you want the antidote too, right?" He leans across the table, offering a cigarette.

Reyes leans back, flicking open his cigar case, choosing one, and lighting it with slow ceremony. He takes in a long, slow drag while he watches both of them, then parts his lips and spills it in a steady cloud. It's a heavier, more pungent reek than Genji's spiced little oddity, spreading across the table to them. Genji laughs, and waves a hand, gives a little cough. "I take a 'no thanks!'"

"No," Reyes says. "You don't."

"I can," Genji argues promptly. "But hey, I'm confused now. He says he doesn't know you. You act like you know him. What am I supposed to think of that?" He shrugs. "Fine. Dare. Kiss him."

Jesse's watching Reyes' eyes go flat and unamused. "Do what, now?"

"You picked dare," Genji says. "That's your dare." He leans back, taking another long, slow drag off the cigarette. "Or I can finally start hearing some truth. That's fine too."

Jesse doesn't feel too drugged. But he also doesn't know if this is the kind of drug that makes you feel buzzed for half an hour, followed by death. "An' then you'll let me have the antidote?"

Genji's eyes are sharp, but he glances back and forth between them for a long moment before slumping with a little smirk. "Ehh, he wasn't really a friend of mine. I guess I don't care who wants to know about him." He takes a long, slow drag and puffs smoke down through his nose, looking between them. "Unless you're going to quit now?" His smile shows teeth, small, white, even. "We can play something else."

Jesse snorts. It's a simple thing, a simple game, a straight way out. He doesn't know if Reyes is going to see it that way, but Reyes just got here, and Jesse's been flying through this mess since Genji noticed him. He's got to find some way down. So he leaves his cushion and moves away from Genji. Reyes sits still, quiet, patient. Jesse isn't sure what he's going to do, and hangs back.

"Is he scared of you?" Genji asks. Reyes looks past Jesse. "Don't give me that face! He's too cute to hurt, ah?" His tone changes. "What's he seen you do?"

That's a warning. He's giving too much away - just do what he was dared, and clear out. Jesse's hand drops on Reyes' knee. The fabric feels rough after Shimada's silk sleeve, and the inseam feels like it's biting oversensitized skin. He shifts his weight off it. Reyes looks him in the face, dropping his cigar into the ashtray near his elbow, and lifts his hand. He cups the side of his jaw, angling Jesse's head towards the light, looking critically at his pupils. Probably running through a pharmacy in his head, trying to guess what's in Jesse's blood. Savior.

"A drink," Jesse tells him in a murmur, and sees a fractional incline of Reyes' head. But he's dizzy, his elbows feel weak. Reyes' hands support him rather than draw him in. Jesse ends up slumped in his lap, head against his chin. Jesse glances back at Genji, who's just watching, face neutral but eyes glittering.

Right. Dare. And then he can get out of his Commander's lap before someone starts taking pictures and they end up in Jack's hands.  Jesse cups Reyes' jaw in his hands, wishing he could apologize. God. It's terrifying, doing this _to,_ and it's what he's wanted for a long time and it's not what he wanted at all. He can't help just touching him. Leans against him. Reyes has always been a rock for him, since the first time Jesse realized his fear wasn't needed, since he placed his trust. Jesse can feel his heartbeat like it's moving them both. Wants to be with him, melded, wants - he isn't even kissing him, he's just got his hands on Reyes' face, lips an inch apart. He can't stand it.

"I wish more people didn't know _me_ like that," Genji says. "Ah, I wish anyone did." He comes near in a liquid crawl, grabs Jesse's hair, tugging him back. Jesse peels off Reyes, who sits still, lets him go. Jesse lets out a slow, long breath, settling back on the cushions. He got used to Reyes' heat so fast, he's cold. The euphoria is changing, deepening, dizzying. "Ah, that's enough of that, okay? What it's going to be like when you actually kiss him... my dad's going to kill me if he hears I tried to start another orgy in his favorite hangout. Too bad he's so unreadable."

Jesse's face is burning, because he might as well have gotten down on one knee and sung a serenade by the way Genji's acting. Genji laughs. "Ah, too cute! Here." The cigarette spills across the table in a bright flicker, the cherry blistering the varnish where it sits, and Genji pounces. He's all smoke and silk and neon aggression - _businesslike_ Jesse thinks. His mouth opens in surprise, which turns out to be fine with Genji. Jesse's been kissed before, in little encounters of opportunity that were about the nearest willing body; he hasn't been kissed like this. He's lost in electric feeling, in light, in Genji's body against his - light like titanium after Reyes' granite presence. Through the dizziness of smoke and the haze lifting him up, Genji burns. He can see green glow through his closed eyelids. Genji's tongue sends shivers of electricity through his mouth. He sees a shine like scales, and an arch and wave through the gray clouds-

The wet softness is gone. Something cold and hard clinks against his teeth, and there's a rush of liquid into his mouth. He swallows reflexively, opening his eyes and struggling to sit up. Genji's already moved off him. He tosses a little bottle overhand into the trash. "And there's your antidote." Reyes, who is half-standing with ominous purpose, pauses. "It'll take hold in a little while." He ruffles Jesse's hair, sitting back, and picks up his glass. His tone changes. "Get him out of here." Jesse pushes himself up on his elbows, although the rough rasp of the floor mat feels like it travels through his bones. Reyes isn't moving, face set, eyes dark. "Hanamura is _my_ playground. You're not here for a good time? You had better be serious somewhere else."

Reyes doesn't respond to the threat. After all, Shimada has forced a reaction from him; that's enough. But he moves. He hauls Jesse up, dragging him along, because Jesse's feet aren't working fast enough and tracking a straight line's getting to be a challenge. Cold air helps, a little when they get outside, blasting the cobwebs out of Jesse's head. He coughs until the prickling fades from his lungs.

The euphoria's gone by the time they're in the hotel room, leaving him itching, full-body. He scratches until his skin is raising in tracks, until Reyes pulls his hands away, swears, and wraps him tight in a blanket. The pressure of his hold stops the itching, in places, but Reyes is careful to pin his hands down. Jesse closes his eyes. Shivering, he settles against Reyes' hold, head down, ducking away from thinking about any of it.

Jesse doesn't dare say anything, but he thinks Reyes understands.


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble challenge? SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD EXCUSE TO ME.

Jesse and Gabriel round the last staircase and skid to a stop under the door. It doesn't open.

They're just beside a glass-lined commuter tunnel. They're wearing everyday clothes; nobody is looking twice, used to people using the warren of hallways and alleys in the busy city. Talon is out there behind them in the night. The laboratory that freed Reyes from Reaper burns far behind them. Reyes lets out a  slow breath. "It's fucked. You'll have to go without me." He takes a few steps back. "I said, _go_ , ingrate. At least I can hold them off-"

"Ain't goin'." Jesse stands on his toes, squinting at the sensors, and waves his hand over it. "What's wrong with it?"

"We don't have time-" Reyes stops himself. They do. If he dashes off into the night without making any plans, he'll die faster. But they had to ditch the weapons to get through the scanners. "You remember I'm... augmented."

"Yeah?"

"Faster metabolism. The scanners are meant to detect any tampering that suggests, you know... remember those neural Omnic skele-"

"Yes."

"Those. My body runs hotter than usual, which could be a sign of a power core." Reyes jerks his head at the scanners. "Those aren't letting the doors open until I'm gone. So. You wait here."

"Hang on," Jesse says. "Jack said he got through, though."

"Yeah, with Ana."

"What's that-"

"Some things force a recalibration," Reyes says.

"Recalibration?" 

"You know. Relative temperature changes... the kinds of bloodflow changes you get with emotion. Blushing, sweating... the sensors adjust to compensate for the heat sources and the result is a 'normal' flag. But you can't make that happen."

"Oh," Jesse drawls, giving him a meaningful look. "I _can't._ "

"Exhibitionism doesn't do it for me. I'd just punch you," he growls.

"Holy shit. No wonder they take this route so often."

"Ana carries an override kit, you asshole."

"Oh." Jesse surrenders his mental images with resignation.  "Why'd you bring it up?"

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "I know you."

"Y'know," Jesse says, "you should probably trust me more often." He puts an arm around Reyes' shoulders. "I just helped pull you out of..." he frowns. There's a sudden inadequacy of language when Reaper shows up. "Some kind of Mercy-tripped abomination... bomb..."

"You flirting with me, McCree?"

"No," Jesse says, moving with him, looking out at the tunnel. "Not yet."

"So, you chose pissing me off."

"Haven't seen you get all red with anger in years." Jesse shrugs. Reyes is reaching up to drag him down the hall by the neck, commuters be damned, when McCree adds, "Nah. Let's talk about your ears instead."

"What's wrong with my ears, asshole?"

"Nothin'," Jesse says. "They're just right. Small an' round, damn cute."

"McCree." He can hear the voice of a deeply exasperated man.

"This ain't gonna work if you don't trust me." Jesse leans. "Sounds like you don't think you're cute."

"Of course I'm not cute. I've spent my life learning more and better ways to kill more and better enemies. Nothing about that is _cute._ "

"Except the ears." Jesse still has an arm around his shoulder. He traces a fingertip across the side of one ear. Reyes can feel his skin warm. He glances to the door automatically. Jesse sees both. "Hey," he adds. "You know how I felt when you dragged me out of there?"

This is _not the time_ and he doesn't appreciate Jesse fucking around with things they've never - he doesn't appreciate this. "Jesse-"

"So fuckin' safe. Because you were back. An' lookin' out for me, just like it's always been." He means it, he fucking means it. Reyes shuts up. Jesse flicks a fingertip over the edge of his eyebrow in a teasing little stroke. "Hey, that's another thing."

"I do not have cute eyebrows."

"Sure you do. Like little fuzzy caterpillars."

Gabriel leans his head against the glass. Somehow this has all gone from high-stakes mission to ego-devastating delay. "Jesse."

"An' your goddamn cheekbones-"

"Not. Cute." Gabriel has relied on those cheekbones. Has seen them lovingly shaded in posters and commemorative art. Nobody thinks they're cute.

"Balance out your nose just right. Sure, they're strong, but they go well together." Jesse's voice is warm, relaxed. Sincere. "You an' your bushy brows an' your little ears an' your big white smile - just cute as a button." The door bings and slides open. "I'll be damned. C'mon."

Gabriel is speechless as they enter the escape tunnel. Jesse glances at him. "Aw, still blushin'. That's so goddamn ador-"

"You did what you had to, McCree, let it drop."

McCree nods, lips together, listening to his tone. But he glances up as they get their goggles on for the emergency exit, doing the final checks of his gear, and stops a minute to look. He smiles. Gabriel feels his face heat again. He pulls Jesse around, surveys the way his harness is on, and pauses.

If he ever wants peace and quiet again, there's only one way to fight back. He pulls Jesse's goggles down over his eyes, frames his face with both hands, and studies him. Leans in, looking him over, beaming.

Jesse blushes.

Gabriel nods, and leads the way.


	4. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never saw it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will make absolutely no sense if you haven't read "Covert." 
> 
> Like, even less sense than you are thinking, right now. No sense. None. None whatsoever. Nil. 0.
> 
> Also, it hadn't occurred to me that people who didn't read my stuff before were now, for some reason! So: this is also massive spoilers for Covert! And the original work is tagged: dark. With major character death!

 

_"I knew you wouldn't forget me." He hears a breathless little laugh. The hand behind his head tugs Gabriel down, foreheads together. Fingertips trace his mouth. "It's just - it's been so fucking long." A warm kiss is pressed against the side of Gabriel's mouth. "It time to go?"_

Gabriel feels it more than hears it, turning the inside of his skull to white. It's the end of a thousand conversations, the close on what-ifs and hopes. Whoever Jesse McCree is, he's memories on the other side of Talon's blank. He imagines the mountain crushing down on the LaCroix couple. He knows it's in his body, because Faithbreaker tries to sit up, tries to bring him along. He braces his arms and shoulders, holding him down. They are all still in danger. He feels himself grasp that. He feels himself react, mouth before thought. "No," he says. "It's not time to go."

 

Faithbreaker touches him, fingertips tracing his face, light, sensual in a way he hasn't been. Persistent. Gabriel settles his weight down. Faithbreaker accepts it, rolling and relaxing, making Gabriel at home. "Your call," he says. But it's dubious.

 

Thoughts begin to start again, his brain reacting to the challenge. Strategic avenues unroll into the white of his mind. Gabriel reaches for Reaper as strongly as Faithbreaker is. Reaper happens, a tip of his head, a rumble to his voice. "You're questioning me?"  

 

"They took things out of my head. They weren't theirs, they weren't mine -  Talon's going to be pissed I let them. How long is it gonna take to fix? It won't get better because we're waiting." Faithbreaker's muscles start to draw. They yield again when Gabriel doesn't move. Faithbreaker touches his face again, soft and wandering, tracing his brow, cheekbone, lips, alternately soft pads of his fingers, the occasional light scrape of his nailtips or slides of the backs of his nails. "Talon's got to be wondering what's takin' us so long."

 

He speaks it like he's speaking of a person. Gabriel lets it goad Reaper. Lets Reaper fill his voice. "Why's it my call?"

 

Faithbreaker makes a small noise. He is just like he always was: sensual. Gabriel has no idea if this is what Talon thought he wanted, or just what they knew would work by reading his nerves. It's always there, under his defenses as easily as a lean towards heat, as easy as breath. "You lead on missions," Faithbreaker responds, uncertain. "You know - you know how to do things. Getting us secrecy. Like now, however you got us space from that damn AI. Protecting us, giving us room to work." Faithbreaker chuckles. "You're fucking amazing."

 

He wonders how much of that is programmed, how much of that is real. It all feels perfect, feels - nearly pulls him off the safe roads of strategy. He could stay with him like this for hours. "So why do you want to be back with Talon so much?"

 

Faithbreaker freezes. "What do you mean?" His words just got more mechanical. Gabriel wishes he knew why. Strategize. Think. Then react.

 

 "If I'm so easy to follow, why do you want to go to them?"

 

"You - I -" he can tell his kick rocked the side of Jesse's programming. That's genuine. "We both." His voice steadies. "It's where we - where we belong." Faithbreaker's hands run behind his head.  

 

"Is it?" It's cruel to be pushing like this, Faithbreaker's been brainwashed and broken down in a way Reaper was spared. But this is a hinge for all the starting plans in his mind. He has to know if the edges are where he thinks they are.

 

"Yes." Faithbreaker shifts under him, moving them both, dragging them towards the light. He wants to see Gabriel's face. Gabriel puts a hand over his shoulder, denying him. Faithbreaker murmurs a protest in his ear.

 

"What if I tell you to choose?"

 

"I can't do that," Faithbreaker says, promptly, certainly, relaxing obediently against his hand. "I was sent with you."

 

His leash. For his benefit. Faithbreaker wasn't meant to be able to stand on his own. Reaper has a strong sense of what it's going to be like for him. Gabriel can picture him shutting down, slipping into catatonia. No. _No._ "What did you think of the book?"

 

"It made me see places," Faithbreaker says. "Why're we talking about a damn book?" For a minute, those weren't Faithbreaker's inflections, it's dizzying. "Reaper - let me get the light."

 

"I don't want it on," Gabriel says, and feels Faithbreaker yield. "Do you love me?"

 

"Absolutely." He doesn't know if it's a Faithbreaker word, or a Talon one put in his mouth, or how different those are. "Yes. God. Yes, like my-" a long, long breath out, "everythin'."  

 

Shaky and unpracticed enough to be real. Gabriel flounders. He doesn't know. Now he doesn't know where Jesse started. If he goes back to remembering Jesse, he sure as hell won't be able to predict where Faithbreaker ends up. Even with all his knowledge, he was taken in. "We're going to stay here for a while. Maybe a very long time."

 

"They need us back."

 

"They have others."

 

"Yeah, but they need us. There's nobody like you. An' I go where you go."

 

"And I'm not going." Faithbreaker actually pushes to sit up, now. 

 

He puts weight into holding him still. "Stop," Reaper says. Faithbreaker does.

 

"Are you cryin'?" Faithbreaker's voice is pure confusion. A wrist twists in his hand until Gabriel lets go. Faithbreaker's hand runs over his face again. (He's taught those hands how to eye gouge, how to choke, how to break an eardrum. He knows it without needing to remember. But he accepts that sliding touch anyway, knowing it is harmless.) "Why? They can't hold us forever. They trust you. They're startin' to trust me. I know I'm fucking up. Help me out. Tell me what to say. I can do better, like King's Row."

 

"They trust me because they know I can remember more."

 

"Yeah?" Faithbreaker asks. And then he gets it. This time, it is a straight-up wrestling match towards the lamp.

 

"Stop," Gabriel says in his ear.

 

"Reaper," Faithbreaker says, sounding terrified (where has he heard that? There's something there, gray in his memory, something happened in the lab once?) Faithbreaker goes limp when he won't let go. It's different this time, there's pure appeasement in the roll of his body and the ease in his muscles. It feels more debased than submission, and Reaper feels his skin prickling with fury imagining how they taught-

 

Leash. Faithbreaker's the leash, perhaps he's meant to get sidetracked on this. "I know I'm asking you for something hard," he says. "Something you're not even sure you can do. I know." Faithbreaker is totally pliant as Gabriel scoops him up, rolling back, Faithbreaker on his lap. He wraps his arms around Gabriel's shoulders, burying his face in his neck.

 

"Reaper?" Faithbreaker asks, shaky. "Reaper, _please-_ "

 

"Ssh. You can do this. Maybe-"

 

 "Reaper," Faithbreaker says, again, and this time there's terror in his voice. Gabriel stops. "How did you get the system to ignore us?"

 

He didn't. Athena's hearing every fucking word. It's probably being transmitted to Jack. He hopes so. How can he tell him? He'll have to. Otherwise, Faithbreaker will take them in, then take them down. It's inevitable. "I didn't."

 

Faithbreaker slumps like his strings were cut. Gabriel catches him. Just holds him.

 

"They're going to send me away," Faithbreaker says finally. Gabriel does not know how long it has been. Nobody has knocked, although Jack might be hovering outside. "Put me in some far corner, never let me see you again."

 

That doesn't sound like the words Faithbreaker would choose. He wishes he remembered Jesse. He has to wonder if it's a programmed move, a last-ditch effort to tie him down with guilt. If Faithbreaker would even know. "'breaker. I've got you. Nobody's taking you away."

 

"You sound just the same," Faithbreaker says, disbelievingly. "Please, Reaper, tell me I-"

 

"You what?"

 

"I can't say." Muttered through clenched teeth, near incoherent. After all, now the AI is listening, and Faithbreaker's hoping there's some kind of deceit left here, some kind of connection.

 

"I love you," Gabriel says. It's his own voice, because it's his own words. He hears Faithbreaker suck in a wounded breath.


	5. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day late! Another Covert-y piece!
> 
> (As yesterday: This continues from Covert, with spoilers for Covert, and bearing Covert's warnings. If you're not interested in Covert, just stay tuned for today's actual prompt.) 
> 
> (Thank you, 'hands, for the prompts to weave in.)

"You realize only a couple of them can see him at a time, right?"

"Not all of those even speak English. I need them for consultation, not hands-on treatment."

Reyes is silent. The list is long, and split into parts: researchers specializing in trauma-induced personality changes. Psychologists with expertise in brainwashing. "You know," he finally starts.

"Yeah," Jack says, hugely resigned. They've discussed this problem before. "Whoever I actually bring in, you're going to have to screen them for familiarity."

"I can't stay here."

"I thought you might say that. Do you still want to go?"

"Jack..."

"I know. I know. Athena can keep tracking you," Jack says. "So yeah, I'll send you one country over. Work your way back."

It's a huge sign of trust. Even given how long it's been. He knows it could go wrong. He still doubts himself; it's been almost two years since Talon had him under control. But... he needs to step outside. He's been sheltered too long, he was never meant for hiding like this. Gabriel nods, slowly.

**

_Winston's bulk at his shoulder is helpful. Warm, night-black, he's not at all human. Faithbreaker has absolutely no way to kill him, doesn't know where to start, can think of no useful way to improvise before Athena drops him. So there's a restful lack of responsibility. His presence is quiet, when he wants to be. Faithbreaker sits and watches the two on the platform below. The blond man keeps looking up at him. The other one doesn't. They're the same size, much the same shape, bookends. But one of them is shut down, quiet, head down._

_He wants to go to him. Should. That stranger's the only possible lead to Reaper; and he heard him. He_ heard _him. Felt him. He's in there somewhere, he's in there waiting, and Faithbreaker should be trying to get him out. Instead, here he is, hung in the sky._

_The blond man puts a hand on his shoulder. Faithbreaker's hands clench on the beam below him. Winston says nothing. Faithbreaker shifts his weight, lifting his body off the beam, weight on his hands. Winston doesn't so much as shift, although Faithbreaker points his toes and starts to swing his feet as if he'll send himself into empty space._

_He'd move towards Reaper again, although Reaper couldn't catch him._

_The blond man moves, circling around as the dark man goes in a straight line towards the door, watching his back. Faithbreaker feels as if he's being dragged off his axis too, sent off his orbit. He puts his weight on one hip, on his elbow, hooking his knee around the beam and hanging his head off the other side. Watching towards the only window in the tall room, waiting to see if he'll see the lights of the plane._

_It's how he falls asleep. Winston carries him down._

_**_

Jack feels like an idiot.

The room is orange. The paint is textured, drying over his fingers. _What am I doing?_ he asks himself again. But he has to see this for himself, has to see if it matches with the hope in his head. It does, and that makes him feel more helpless, because it's so fucking inadequate.

"It's not your fault," Ana says softly from the door.

"It is if he gets caught." He's argued for so fucking long with Gabriel. He knew all along that Gabriel would win. But it's just like it was, when Gabriel was captured: relief, Gabriel off for a vacation, everything great and awesome followed by the fucking sky falling in. He's braced for it. He's been relentlessly relocating agents around the globe, sometimes moving them nearer Gabriel, sometimes just making an attention-getting fuss on the other side of the globe. And constantly checking his datapad.

"He won't. They don't have help now."

He checks his arm for paint, then uses it to brush his hair back from his face. He's exhausted, it's been a long, grinding day. Without Blackwatch there to keep the worst players out of the game, Overwatch has to deal with them, making nice, pretending petty tyrants were legitimate government... bullshit. "I should have figured it out."

"I should-"

"It wasn't your watch," he says loudly, banging the brush down on the tray. The paint fumes are making it worse. He picks up a light and walks around, looking for thin spots. "It was mine. Gabriel's had my back for how long? And what'd I do when he needed me?"

Ana touches his shoulder. "The same thing we all did." She eases the brush over a patch between two strong blocks of color.

"He loved Jesse."

"-Jack."

"There has to be something we can do," he says. "Talon can't just disappear a person... inside a person like that." Ana doesn't answer for a long moment. Then she puts the brush down carefully and hugs him, pressing the side of her face against his shoulder. Jack holds the bright light out awkwardly to the side and holds her.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I could have-"

He shakes his head. "You were incredible."

"I could have pushed it further, when I first knew Mercy was wrong about something," she says. "When I knew she was cutting me out by security clearance. I thought there were many possibilities, beginning with my use of the biotic rifle. I could have questioned much sooner."

He lets out a slow breath. Takes one in. There's always some horrible challenge. He's just used to it being a big-picture thing, something that, if it comes home, is part of the crowd around him, or a color a country is shaded on a map. He's not used to it being the empty eyes of a man he knew. He looks at Ana. God, she's amazing, she's smart, she's beautiful, she dragged everything back on course for him when it was falling apart. She and Genji are perfecting their teamwork. He hates it every time they go after Talon, but they always get something out of it. "You've got orange on your face," he tells her, before it sets up.

She rubs at it and retreat for the bathroom. He looks around. The little bedroom is different. They took out the double bed, rather than rub it in to Jess- Faith- shit, they have to get him a real name. Lena doesn't even use her codename most of the time, and she loves it. Anyway, they took the bed out so they weren't driving it home all the time that someone was missing. And Jack repainted it the color and texture of home. Gave it the walls that he remembered from the canyon. The colors of the day they tore apart McCree's shitty little world and Gabriel gave him a better deal, a new start.

Maybe they should give him a cactus. He winces. Yeah, that's all they need, for McCree to ambush him and give him an eyeful of cactus spines. He flicks on the fans to full power and unplugs the work light. Adjusts the bed like it was, picks up the drop cloths. He goes to change out of his shirt before Lena hugs him. At least it'd blend in better with her uniform.

When he checks his datapad, Jesse's not far away. He finds his feet automatically headed that way.

Jesse McCree, as he is now, sees him. He's got his hair back in its damn ponytail. He's moving in Winston's shadow, letting the gorilla take the attention as they go. His gaze is flat. He's a fucking _alien_ now. Winston's a gorilla from the Moon, and he's more relatable. Jack hates it.  Jesse's scratching around the edges of the security band on his wrist. As soon as Jack opens his mouth to talk to him, Jesse ghosts straight out of the conversation, eyes blanking and feet slowing as he shuts down. Winston and Jack trade looks. Jack turns, staying on Winston's other side. They walk, together.

What words are there? Jack reaches for them, but he and McCree talked, sure, but they never connected that often. It was just fun and banter, or orders and business. All those pieces go to a different puzzle.

"He reacts faster if you use 'Faithbreaker,'" Winston says after Jesse has walked into his sandy orange room like nothing changed and Athena has sealed the lock behind him.

"Fuck Talon," Jack says.  Winston gives a massive, furry shrug. "Come on. I'll get a team together. We can play tug of war."

"Doesn't my team get a handicap?"

Jack snorts. "Yeah, it's only got one person on it."

"That takes the pressure off." Winston puts a little strut into the way he swings his shoulders, knuckling along tall and proud. "I'm always number one."

"Never mind. If Lena's still up, she can hold the end of the rope."

**

_The colors are off._

_Black and white: Reaper._

_Black and orange: Winston. Orange and blue, smeared and glowing: Tracer. Olive and navy: Amari. Blue and gold: Morrison. Simple. Give them something to represent them, and he doesn't have to think._

_The colors are off now. Tracer is blue and orange and brown. Amari is the sheen of her dark hair under light, silver and drab, gold and navy. Morrison is blue and gold and the glare of light as he pulls off his visor. The pink-pale of an outreached hand. Reaper..._

_Reaper is bronze and chestnut. He doesn't know what they did with the armor. He doesn't know why Reaper_ left _the armor. Reaper out there, without his shell, is frightening. Faithbreaker goes quiet whenever he thinks about it. It's wrong. Reaper should be protected, should be safe. Shouldn't be alone._

_He shouldn't be alone. He shouldn't be without purpose for this long. He shouldn't be alone._

**

"Winston!" Jack snaps. Winston looks up from the cafeteria line. There's a tray in each hand. Faithbreaker is sitting quietly as a table, beside a smaller figure in a gray hoodie. There's a glass in his reach, salt and pepper right in front of him, agents close enough for him to attack -

The hoodie has turned to his voice, and he sees bright green. Oh. Right. Shimada came in last night. It's been long enough that they nearly give him access to the base where Mercy is... staying. And of course he's fine, not even a Talon agent can fuck everything up in the time it takes a cyborg ninja to react.

As long as they don't trust him. He swallows. Genji wouldn't do that now. He knows what kind of damage Jesse McCree can do. It's the first time Genji's allowed himself in the same room with him. Even Zenyatta is taking his time, making sure he's got his head straight before he gets near the... man Talon medically assaulted. Fuck. Jack needs new words for this, because even in Overwatch custody, Jesse's still a Talon prisoner. Maybe Zenyatta can get him talking where the trained psychologists couldn't. It's something to hope for.

Jack gets a call just when he's about to find Amari. He steps outside. Gabriel.

"How are you?" he asks.

Gabriel answers with the code phrase before adding, "fine." Despite the short word, his tone is... better. He sounds more like he's old self. He's used the time alone to heal. (Jack has been watching him move, every step as he said he would take, calling and checking in regularly.)  "You?"

"Fine."

"Him?"

Jack lets out a slow breath. "Not shut down as often as I thought he'd be. We're looking after him. Take as much time as you need."

"I know." He can hear a guilt that's kin to what Jack carries. The same guilt that Jack felt when he thought he'd lost Ana. Shit.

They talk for a little while, just like it was, before Gabriel hangs up. Jack stands, watching Gabriel's plans load in little points on the datapad, estimated timeframes, planned stays, a neat, hopeful little constellation, until Ana touches his sleeve.

**

_He's caught in the open and he's without a cover. He can't fight, he can't run. He just has to... walk, eat meals, play games, sleep in his little orange room and read books._

_The days keep going by, and as much as he tries to focus, there's - so much happening. Genji's silver body dances and bends and steps near him, climbing, dropping, darting, breaking every rhythm Faithbreaker tries to build. Tracer appears and reappears. She always has the same look on her face when she tries to talk to him, but she always tries to talk to him. The gorilla works, talks to him, invites him to play games in the rec room. Morrison persists. Won't stop trying._

_It reminds him of the yawning chasm of all the things that he doesn't know. Things he shouldn't, but he needs. Can't find out anyway, because they know what he'll use it for, and they hide it scrupulously. And he questions: if the truth is that powerful, why did Talon take it from him? He would have used it, by now, for Talon._

_He watches. He feels out of place. He waits for a sign from Reaper._

**

Reinhardt is holding the punching bag for him when Winston and Jesse walk in. Jack presses his lips together and keeps his mind on what he's doing. Reinhardt looks up. Looks back at him. Jack shakes his head. Reinhardt is so damn hopeful it makes it worse, because it's so hard not to play along too. Fortunately, Jesse nowadays tends to do acrobatic, crazy shit McCree would never think about. Difficult to confuse them.

He sees it after he's just trying to shake off some tension, as he and Reinhardt are heading to the showers. Jesse and Winston have been climbing around the net hanging off the wall. He makes a dumb joke to Reinhardt, who laughs out of pity. He glances up as they go, like McCree's going to drop down on his shoulders or something.

Jesse's smiling. It's not a nice smile, it's a disbelieving quirk of his lip like that was the dumbest joke he's ever heard, but that's not what matters. What matters is that's... the most genuine moment of _person_ Jack's seen since they got him back, an unguarded reaction plain on his face. Sure, it's not nice. It's not like Jesse at all. But... it's also not something he thinks this strange, new Jesse would think to fake.

He pushes the door open and heads through, pretending not to notice.

**

_All these thoughts he shouldn't be thinking, and no way to reel them back in._

_It was easier with Talon looking over his shoulder and Reaper pushing the boundaries; he just had to protect Reaper. It was okay to risk, it was okay to push, as long as he was with him. As long as he watched himself. This, though..._

_This is_ wrong _, and he can't stop. Every day he loses the sense of where the boundaries even are. There's nobody to recalibrate against. Not even Reaper, who's beyond compromised, but would still know. He just knows he's not himself anymore._

**

Gabriel seriously questions if he should be coming back at all. If maybe he's still got some programming he doesn't know about, and he shouldn't just vanish from everyone's sight. Being out on his own was amazing, freeing. Most importantly, vigilant as he was, he never caught so much as a shadow of attention. Of Talon.

Jack looks stressed, worn, and he knows that whatever he used to do, Jack leaned on him. He could go back, still, he thinks. Become that person again. The problem is, he'd lose all the things he'd learned in resisting, in reclaiming his mind. If Talon captured him again... well, they could start over from the beginning. It's maddening. If he takes one, the other stops existing - that whole _him_ stops existing. He considers, again, trying to leave a video or something of himself, to himself. But even that would miss worlds of meaning, hints and shades.

He knocks twice and hits the door control.

Faithbreaker's sitting on the edge of the bed. He looks up. The door shuts in time, or Faithbreaker would probably knock him on his ass in the hallway. As it is, he tucks his head down and lets his back take the impact. Faithbreaker presses against him. There is aggression in it, like Faithbreaker wants to punish him for desertion. But his hands are gentle.

"I'm back."

"You were gone-" he hears a slow, deep inhale. "What was it? How many months?"

"Four. What'd you do?"

" _Nothing._ " Yeah, Faithbreaker's pissed. Gabriel doesn't say anything. Faithbreaker has his eyes closed. Gabriel knows the look on his face. It's what the others wear when they say _Jesse_ , like they're comming but not sure who will pick up. Gabriel wants to use the tones Faithbreaker used to hear from him. It feels like a false promise, like just fucking with him, as much as he knows it'd make him happy. The moment when he could stretches out awkwardly.

Then Faithbreaker lets out a slow breath and backs up, tugging Gabriel with him. They land side by side on the bed. Faithbreaker pulls them both down. It's got the same dizzying sensuality as ever. Gabriel feels part of his mind draw back and watch. Faithbreaker's a little to one side, giving him an out if he doesn't like this, without having to ask for it. But the arm holding Faithbreaker's weight ends in a fist.

"You gonna fight me, 'breaker?" He watches that fist ease at the nickname.

"No," Faithbreaker says into his shoulder.

"Did it get any better?"

" _Fuck_ you."

Pulled-back hair is sleek under his fingertips. The man is breathing like his ribs won't open far. Gabriel watches. He's not saying _"come with me next time"_ unless they're going to another remote place where Jesse can't get his hands on a trasmitter. This much time hasn't been enough, it's obvious. He's not sure how long it will take.

"Look at me," he says. Faithbreaker does. Anger's crackling behind his eyes and tight in his body. Gabriel pushes one broad shoulder, and Faithbreaker doesn't give. Won't roll, although he still hasn't moved to block Gabriel's out. It's worrying: Does he have a plan that works around Gabriel's opposition? It's reassuring: Faithbreaker's not quite in his old role, the role Talon planned. Like he's started to grow past the edges.

Well. Maybe not. Whatever else is going on, Gabriel's lying here under him.

"Please don't leave me again." Gabriel still can't draw a complete picture of Jesse in his mind. But he's pretty sure Jesse would never have begged like this. "Don't-"

"Sh." He pulls Faithbreaker over him like a blanket. Feels him just relax, like a dead man.  "Why is the room orange?"

"Morrison."

"Did he say why?"

Tension returns long enough to form an enormous shrug. "It's orange now."

Gabriel nods. Sure, why not another sudden transformation. Jesse is Faithbreaker and Reaper is Gabriel and Jack is... still Jack. And the room is orange now. "Reminds me of Winston's space suit."

"He still got that?"

"Yeah." He kicks himself. Of course Faithbreaker hasn't seen it. It's in a room with a lot of communications equipment. Faithbreaker starts to kiss the side of his neck. Gabriel guides him off, as gently as he can.

"Why not?"

"Not the night for it."

"You're back."

"I'm tired."

"I can..." but it's hesitant, Faithbreaker has never had outright refusal from him. He drops it when Gabriel doesn't react to the idea. Gabriel slides their fingers together and locks his palm against Faithbreaker's. He really is tired. He surrendered his datapad before he came in here, just in case. Talon changed this man; he might knock Gabriel out for it. But, more importantly...

Gabriel's recovering faster, further. He's freer. Faithbreaker has to sense it. Maybe falling right back into the same pattern will make things worse. Or maybe rejection will make things worse. He doesn't know, he'll have to check Jack's list of psychologists and see if any of them have any insight.

For now, he closes his eyes, and listens to Faithbreaker's breathing.

 


	6. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It could have been worse.
> 
> Gen - depictions of injury. Kind of idea of self-harm, but only for survival's sake.

The battlefield is lit by dying flares. Gabriel scrabbles at his trapped leg. Part of his brain, the part that's tracking the countdown of the bomb, wants him to get his knife and take the damn thing off. The angle's bad, he'd have to work at the hip and bleed to death before he got through.  The landing pad is elevated, the highest point around. There's no shelter. The blast is going to cut through the side of the building, hit the Omnic, and roll it right through the rest of his body.

And Jesse's. Because Jesse's still trying, desperate and futile, to roll the Omnic off his leg. Gabriel swears and grabs Jesse. Jesse grunts. Gabriel doesn't fuck around. He flings him bodily off the platform. "Go!" he roars after him. He puts his own strength into moving it again. The problem is the Omnic is segmented. He can roll the segment on him up. He can see the top of his boot. A crosswise support beam in the rubble stops it from rolling further. The minute his arm slips on that polished surface, it all comes back down. He burrows under it and puts the point of his knife to the side of his knee. He's being crushed too flat to work effectively. There is no time.

There's a _thunk_ and he looks behind him. That _idiot_ McCree is standing there with a narrow-nosed pneumatic jack. It's ridiculously large and heavy as shit. It's designed to prop up broken transports. McCree must have gotten it up on the platform that fast through spite and adrenaline. As Reyes watches, he raises it, smashing the point into the crack again.

"Jesse!" His distraction has let the segment slip again, crushing the knife, and his hand, flat. Desperation roars through his voice. "It was a fucking _order!"_ Past tense, because he knows it's over for them both. 

Jesse sets the jack's nose one last time, and jumps up onto it. His weight drives its nose deep into the crack. Lines spider around it. Jesse throws the lever. The platform's designed against weight sinking on the top, not force out from the middle. It gives like an eggshell. Suddenly, a hollow is gaping under Gabriel. The jack pitches sideways, carrying McCree down with the handle.

The bomb goes off as they start to fall.  

For a minute, the sky is fire, the world is fury and red. Gabriel shuts his eyes and covers his face. When he opens his eyes, he's lying on a cold, hard surface, bits of hot rubble still raining down on him. Shaking his head, he rolls over. He's too stunned to know time or place, but it comes together like a puddle from falling raindrops. The fight. The bomb. The departure. The trap. The Omnic. Mc-

He rolls up, and his legs hold him, so he scrambles across the floor. He doesn't know where to start looking for Jesse, he just throws down a biotic field because if Jesse isn't in range, he's dead. That's a softer, crumpled shape of cloth and flesh-

It takes him a moment to realize why he can't find Jesse's forearm in the lines of his body. And then he's getting out a pressure bandage. Blood's flowing, so he's still alive, Gabriel thinks. He's not sure. Half of Jesse's face is red, flecked and pocked with black. Gabriel will be surprised if he still has that eye at the _least-_

Jesse moves. Gabriel swears, trying not to hurt him any worse but the bleeding has to stop. "It's okay, I've got you," he says. "You'll be fine, kid." A patter of words, his voice soothing as he can make it, but he and Jesse have comforted dying friends. They both know the script.  "Hold still, just hold still. Keep breathing." A hand rises and falls, looking for his hand, or an elbow. Gabriel is afraid to move him, since he might have broken his back in the fall. Gabriel stretches to hook the little bubble dome of the biotic field and drag it closer. He looks up, hoping for evac. The helicopters would have moved away from the blast radius, will probably be slow re-orienting themselves over a blast-sculpted battlefield. "You asshole, you idiot, you're going to be _fine._ You just keep breathing. You hear me? Be fine. C'mon. Breathe with me. One-"

"Commander?" a voice asks over his headset. Jesse's is gone. Gabriel's starting to make sense of what he sees. Gone, along with his ear, part of his scalp, how much of his face? Still impossible to tell.

"Can you find my position?"

"Yes!"

" _Get over here._ McCree's down."

**

It's been a week.

It's night. There's a storm moving in outside, lighting up the little bubble of the room with flashes of light. McCree's always been a little claustrophobic, so they put him in the room half open to the sky. That's backfiring now, they had to dilate his pupil to try to assess what was causing the problem in his remaining eye. There was no chance the white flashes strobing from the sky wouldn't awaken him. 

Gabriel can hear blankets shift and slide, the tap of Jesse's bare feet on the floor.

"You keep your stubborn ass in that bed, or I'll sit on you," he threatens. Naturally, McCree doesn't listen. There's a pause, sure, but he's just gathering himself before that little grunt that says he's pushed himself to his feet. Gabriel listens, but the floor's cold and Jesse's barefoot, and he's walking softly now. Gabriel can see where he is by the white flare of the bandaged side of his head in the glass.

He expects Jesse to stand beside him, so he's a little surprised when a hand hooks his shoulder and Jesse flattens the healthy side of his face between Gabriel's shoulderblades. Gabriel wants to turn and hold him, but he's pretty damn sure he'll start crying. He reaches up. His hand covers Jesse's. Jesse leans, putting his weight against him, hiding his eye against Gabriel's back. Another blue-white flash is merciless to the night's peace.

Finally, Gabriel notices he can feel Jesse - crying? No, just shivering, he's wearing a hospital gown. The air's cool enough for Gabriel to be wearing hoodie and hat. Gabriel turns slowly, taking Jesse around the waist and guiding him back to the bed. Jesse doesn't argue getting back into it, which means he probably couldn't have crossed the floor alone. Gabriel wishes he were well enough to just fling him into the bed. But he isn't. Gabriel pulls the covers up over him, takes his hoodie off, and drops it over his chest. He flips the hood up to cover Jesse's eye. Jesse instantly grabs his hand, with the kind of grip that says he's not about to let go.

"Sure. Whatever." Gabriel sits on the edge of the bed. He can see Jesse's eye is closed in the next flash, even with Gabriel's body shading him. Gabriel adjusts the hood. Jesse's grip doesn't slack. Gabriel scoots him over that last little bit and plunks down on the bed next to him. "I'll be here when you wake up. You should've known that already."

Jesse's fingers relax.  Gabriel listens to him breathing, slow and even, even while thunder booms through the glass. 


	7. Alternate Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse at another reality. Just a snapshot. No romantic ship, no warnings.

Gabe came to the Shalyiiri system answering a distress call by humble Cctan workers. The Cct were a crystalline alien species that grew slowly, troubled no one, and usually did not communicate with anyone at all. However, raiders had found that Cctan bodies were great focusing crystals to jury-rig shield generators with. That meant that Cctans who were minding their own business, growing peaceably, found themselves painlessly broken into pieces and scattered among ships. Since Cctans had no method of fast locomotion, they had no way to escape or stop the pillaging. Other Cctans who saw the attacks communicated with nearby friendly droids and begged the Jedi for help.

"Be mindful, padawan," he says in an undertone as they move through the shipyard. The sky is green with bright yellow clouds. They both wear masks to provide them with breathable air; the atmosphere is mildly toxic but survivable. "Focus on the living Force to find the captives."

"There, there, an' over there," says his apprentice promptly. "Is it time to go get 'em?"

Gabe bites his tongue. Yisi is eerily perceptive in some ways. His strength disquiets Gabe, at times, because it outstrips Yisi's discipline and calm. He'd rescued the child from slavers taking him to a buyer who'd demanded him, specifically. With every year that went by, Gabe suspects more strongly that  the buyer was a Dark Jedi who'd sensed the off-kilter potential tucked in his apprentice.

The Council had opposed his decision. They usually do. In fact, they have not, technically, given him this mission.

"No," he says, "we are not going to forcibly free them, right now."

"You're good," Yisi says, awed. Gabe nods. He hadn't needed the Force for that premonition at all.

"Remember," he says, "anger and passion are both dangerous. They will cloud your mind. Stay calm. We're going to hang back and assess. We do not know all the raiders that have exploited the," he makes the click sound that substitutes for their inability to create the Cct's name for themselves, "are docked. We might miss one trapped in space."   

"Yeah," Yisi agrees, looking around. Gabe can understand his distraction. They are dressed as smugglers in the middle of a busy shipyard with many aliens, mostly not humanoid, and mostly species that Yisi has never met. They are far on the Outer Rim. The raiders that they want are mostly humans, so Gabe already knows what bar to head towards.

They are ambushed approaching it. Gabe is glad that he didn't give Yisi a weapon. Yisi has a degree of focus that consumes him; he sees nothing but his target, even through the warnings the Force tries to give him. As it is, the fight is short, and he doesn't even have to activate his lightsaber.

Yisi has been able to engage one enemy in the time it took him to pacify the rest. "Look how alive he is, Master!" Yisi lifts the man's bruised face off the alley floor by the hair. "I got discipline. Ya gotta allow me to build a lightsaber."

"No." Gabe steps over the unconscious man and strolls onward. Yisi sighs hugely, but knows better than to argue. He comes quietly after. Gabe should never have given a reason for not allowing his padawan to approach those lessons. But he hadn't wanted Yisi to feel as if he were untrustworthy. After that last visit to Coruscant... well, Gabe always visited the younglings, he knew the unwritten rules. He glances at Yisi. It was good for them to learn a few shameful words now and then. The outside galaxy was full of linguistic pitfalls.

He steps into the bar, the scruffy shape of his disguised padawan skulking in behind him. He buys himself a drink while Yisi joins a crowd of observers at a hologame. Gabe does not watch him, but he follows him through the Force. Yisi has learned much about how to control his emotions, but he is still pulled too far off-course by joy or grief, and he still fears too much of the galaxy around him. Gabe has taught him to control his anger, but Yisi has not properly learned to choke off the source, to put out the fire before it begins.

When the barfight starts, he is a little surprised that Yisi was not involved. It sweeps through the room. Angry aliens vent toxic fumes from their bodies or lash about them with heavy-tipped tentacles. Yisi is forced to defend himself with a chair. Gabe grabs him by the collar before he can take an excuse to join the fight. He drags him outside. "You have not relinquished your aggression," he says. "A Jedi does not fight because there is a fight; he fights because there is an end to the fight." 

"There were people in there who didn't want to fight," Yisi says. "Someone should defend them."

"Those were Iliturians," Gabe answers. "It wasn't that they didn't want to fight, it was that they knew that the injuries they caused would be traced to them quickly. Come on."

"Did you find out what you needed to about the raiders?"

Gabe rolls his eyes. "What did you learn? You were there for the same purpose that I was."

"A lot about Yil Masaram."

"She's a local crime boss with no ties to the raiders."

"She doesn't like them."

"She can't profit off them. The only way she could is by owning part of the shipyard. But they bring in a bigger share of the pirate economy than she does, now."

"Can we use that?"

Gabe nods. "I think so. We will ask her for assistance, and in exchange, we will sabotage the ships' shield generators for her."

"But we were gonna do that an-" Yisi stops. "Oh. _Oh._ "

"Exactly."

"That's one damn sneaky plan. Did you come up that just now? Without even thinkin'?"

"It wasn't a difficult connection to make. You could have done the same, if you kept yourself in the present, with all the pieces you have learned."

Yisi snorts. "Maybe you're just good at this."

"Come, apprentice. We must meditate before we continue our mission. We've already allowed ourselves to be caught up in violence twice." He starts towards the ship. They have a safe place there to clear their minds. Yisi can ground himself, which he needs. And Gabe can decide if he wants to let Yisi near another fight. His padawan must shed his aggression, so that he is always ready to see other solutions. So that he isn't tempted to force every situation to go his way. 

Gabe knows that Yisi sees more paths that could lead to the Dark Side than most padawan learners consider. But that makes him more grateful that he had a chance to intervene. 


End file.
